Metal Mage 12

by Eric Vall

  “A little,” I admitted, “everything’s been pretty up and down for the last hour, but we may as well make it a party, because I found our opening.”

  “How?” Shoshanne asked.

  “Dragir and I went to the Oculus, and we read through the Elven Scrolls.”

  “You can read them?” Deya gasped.

  “Wyresus and Barnik figured it out,” I told her.

  “Did they tell you how to counter the element?” Cayla asked as she clutched Aurora’s arm.

  “Nope, they did not,” I announced, and the cheeky grin I wore when I said this made my women look at me like I’d come unhinged. “The Elven Scrolls told me nothing about how to counter this element, because we only have page one, but page one discussed the limitations, which changes everything!”

  “Elements have limitations?” Deya asked, and Dragir nodded before he gestured for me to continue.

  “It turns out, this element relies on proximity to the portals in order to allow someone to transport larger beings or even massive amounts of soldiers,” I told my women. “The Master can send more beings if he uses multiple portals, and he can send more of the smaller creatures than he can of anything else.”

  “Okay … ” Aurora said with a slow nod. “That explains a few things.”

  “It does,” I agreed, “and it means if the Master wants to enact his colossal take over plan, the number of minions required to pull off mass simultaneous attacks would have to be within spitting distance of the portals to travel through them all at once.”

  “Wouldn’t that make the portals useless?” Cayla pointed out.

  “You’d think so,” I allowed, “but he’s worked his way around the issue.”

  “How?” Deya asked in confusion.

  “And why does this mean we can organize an offensive attack?” Aurora clarified.

  “Because as Dorinick informed us, the Master’s fortress appears to be deserted, and even though he’s been sending smaller attacks out for days, we all know we haven’t destroyed the bulk of his soldiers yet,” I told the women. “They’re all packed away, ready to be unleashed on the world, and the Master has no fucking idea I know exactly where he’s sending all of them.”

  Aurora furrowed her brows, but as a roguish grin came to my face, she suddenly flushed as she realized what I was getting at.

  “The underground tunnels,” the half-elf gasped. “That’s how he’s transporting them.”

  “Damn right,” I growled, and I grabbed Dragir to shove him toward the stairs. “Get your stuff packed, I need you in Nalnora by the end of the day.”

  “That is impossible,” Dragir countered, “it took me--”

  “I’ve got a faster means of transportation,” I assured him.

  Dragir whipped around. “The Mustang?”

  “Better than that. Go.” Then I turned to Deya as her brother sprinted up the stairs. “Mind running an errand for me?”

  A mischievous grin came to Deya’s face as her violet eyes glistened, and she let out a silvery giggle before she trotted off to grab her scales.

  “Cayla, can you pack up every magazine we’ve got in the shop?” I asked as I headed for the training hall. “Let’s get Dragir stocked up for the time being.”

  “Yes, Mason,” the princess said, “but does this mean I get to use my AR-15 soon?”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it,” I chuckled. “Shoshanne, I’ll need you to spend the next couple days getting our infirmaries stocked and ready for action, and Aurora, we need to visit both the training fields and the Oculus to figure out if anyone else is ready for a promotion.”

  Aurora and Shoshanne nodded diligently, but when they saw me grab the double-ended flail off its mount, they both frowned.

  “What do you need that for?” the healer asked uneasily.

  “Nothing,” I chuckled. “That’s the point.”

  Dragir appeared in the hall just as I reached the entryway, and I shuttled him out the door as Cayla hurried behind me with a sack full of magazines.

  “Get your army prepared to move out, and make sure Rhys is ready, too,” I told the elf as I led him out to the clearing. “I’ll arrive with your orders in the next couple days, but make sure your warriors know not to fire on any dragons that show up at House Quyn.”

  Dragir flipped around with a skeptical look. “Dragons?”

  “Yeah, dragons,” I muttered as I scanned the sky. “Here, this is for you.”

  Then I handed over my double-ended flail, and the elf stared at me in disbelief.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled. “You’ll put it to better use than me, and I owe you more than just a pistol.”

  “How do you figure?” Dragir asked as he furrowed his brow.

  “Well … I got your sister pregnant, and you didn’t kill me,” I said with a shrug. “Then you helped me arm over three hundred soldiers, rig a flying metal dragon, fought for my town like it was your own, and even after you thought I scalded your sister to get off, you still didn’t kill me. Instead, you helped decipher ancient scrolls to finally get the upper hand over the Master, and in about two minutes, you’ll probably wanna kill me again, but you won’t. So … the flail is yours.”

  “Aww,” Shoshanne moaned. “Mason, you’re so sweet.”

  Dragir rolled his eyes as he took the flail. “I believe the point of this is that I am so sweet. Me.”

  I nodded in full agreement, but I was mostly focusing on the leathery flap of massive wings approaching, and while Dragir admired his new flail, I casually stepped back so I could enjoy the show.

  Deya didn’t come in for one of her flawless landings, though.

  She crashed to the ground in the clearing so hard the ground shook all across Falmount, and as the black dragon parted its jaws, it let out a thundering roar that made Dragir shriek like a dying woman.

  The flail dropped to the dirt as he tripped back and scrambled to get away, and Deya prowled after him with her poison-tipped tail flicking side to side. Dragir was so scared, he forgot about my eel-infested moat, and as Deya continued advancing, he dropped over the edge with shrill yelp.

  The swift elf managed to catch himself on the ledge before my water spawn could get him, though, and while he skittered his boots against the edge to avoid their teeth, I strolled over.

  Then I crouched down beside the moat with a shit-eating grin.

  “This is my battle dragon,” I told the elf. “You can call her Deya.”

  Deya snapped her teeth, and Dragir’s eyes looked like they’d never go back to their normal size again. His jaw quivered while he stared up as his sweet and quiet little sister with the eight-inch fangs, and I chuckled with pride as I grabbed his arm to haul him back up from the moat.

  “Now, stop dicking around and saddle up,” I ordered as Dragir staggered in shock.

  “D-Deya?” he whimpered. “Wha … ”

  “Don’t worry,” I chuckled. “I’ve heard she’s perfectly content to live a passive life, so she probably won’t light you on fire. Although, there’s a good chance she’ll maul a few griffins on your way home, isn’t that right, beautiful?”

  Deya snarled as she nuzzled her horned snout against my side, and my women giggled at the stunned elf who still couldn’t get his eyes to stop bulging out of his head.

  “Deya, you know the drill,” I sighed as I patted her scaly head. “Steer clear of House Orrel, and when you’re done dropping Dragir off, come straight back to Falmount. I’ve got armies to round up, starting with our allies in the west.”

  Aurora gasped as she ran over. “We’re getting the ogres?”

  “Hell yeah, we are,” I chuckled. “We’ve got a war to start.”

  My women absolutely lost it as they began rambling about the many ways they wanted to use up my entire arsenal for this, and while Dragir gaped between my battle dragon and my deadly women, I just grinned and nodded to all of their wildest ideas.

  Because if there was one thing I’d been waiting a long
time to do, it was making sure the Master knew exactly how much shit I had coming for him in this realm.

  Automatons, armies, and dragons included.

  End of book 12

  End Notes

  Thank you for reading Metal Mage 12. Once I hit 100 reviews I’ll start working on the next book! Please leave your reviews here! Thank you!

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Eric Vall